


Shore Leave

by Lenore



Series: Shore Leave [2]
Category: Smallville, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossover, First Time, Jealousy, Multi, Threesome, earthside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-30
Updated: 2006-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time off on Earth, and Rodney does some consulting for LuthorCorp. John tags along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and thanks to the brilliant [](http://no-detective.livejournal.com/profile)[**no_detective**](http://no-detective.livejournal.com/) for suggesting this idea over brunch one Sunday. And big thanks, also, to the intrepid [](http://barely-bean.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://barely-bean.livejournal.com/)**barely_bean** for doing double beta reading duty.

"...and then Nelson managed to blow the power couplings again, and Sanford took _all_ morning to get the calculations for the ZPM containment field _all_ wrong, and I just wasted precious time cleaning up another of Bronson's messes…"

Rodney's tirade carries him through the doors and into the middle of John's room.

John glances up from his packing. "Hey, come on in, Rodney. Make yourself at home."

Rodney darts a dirty look at him, but doesn't break his stride, "…and you have no idea what kind of disaster Jameson made of the internal sensors. If Atlantis is actually standing when we get back from Earth, it will be one of the universe's less minor miracles."

"Speaking of that, I don't suppose you've packed yet?"

"How would I possibly have time to pack," Rodney scrunches up his forehead indignantly, "when I've spent all morning saving the city from the most dire sort of incompetence?"

"Well," John says cheerfully, opening a dresser drawer, taking out a stack of T-shirts. "We leave in twenty minutes. Better get cracking."

"Oh, thank you, Colonel. Way to show your appreciation for everything I do around— What is that?"

John closes the drawer pointedly. "What?"

As usual Rodney misses or simply ignores his cue to mind his own business. He pulls the drawer open and reaches inside, even as John is doing his best to smack his hand away. "I'm not going to ask what you're doing with one diamond earring."

"Good." John snatches it out of Rodney's hand and closes the drawer again, even more emphatically than before.

Rodney shifts his weight. "Okay, okay, I lied. So, what _are_ you doing with it?" His eyebrows shoot up all the way to his hairline. "Wait. Does this mean you actually _were_ a gigolo at some point in your life?"

John's answer is a balled-up T-shirt, perfectly aimed at Rodney's face.

"Very nice, Colonel. Very mature."

"Rodney. Go pack."

"All I did was ask a simple question. I can't help it if you're not very clever at concealing your illicit mantoy past."

"_Rodney_," John drawls in the vaguely threatening way that usually gets results.

Rodney huffs, "Fine. Be like that."

The doors slide open for him.

"You've got fifteen minutes!" John shouts after him.

John takes some of that time to figure out a new and improved hiding place for the earring. When Rodney has a point, he has a point.

* * *

The first three days of John's shore leave pass in debriefings, interviews with the new military personnel who will make the trip back to Atlantis with them, and a day-long training session on administrative procedures, because even a galaxy far, far away isn't far enough to save him from paperwork. When Elizabeth finally declares, "I think we're done here, time to go have some fun," he practically sprints from the room.

His first stop is the lab to drag Rodney away from his computer, but Rodney, persnickety as always, refuses to be liberated. He won't so much as glance up from the screen. "In case your eyesight has failed, Colonel, let me point out that I am exceedingly busy right now."

"How much longer?"

"Don't you have _any_ friends?"

John cocks his head and grins. "Not with that old McKay charm."

Rodney makes a face, apparently not amused. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're going to have to entertain yourself this trip. I have hours more work to do here, and then I'm off to Metropolis for some private consulting."

John goes still. "Metropolis?"

Rodney nods, too distracted by his calculations to notice John's reaction. "LuthorCorp is trying to develop a commercially viable hydrogen fuel cell, not all that successfully if the research notes they sent along are any indication."

The sensible thing, John knows, is to wish Rodney a good trip and walk away.

"I've always kind of liked Metropolis."

He never has been much for sense.

Rodney gives John his full attention for the first time since he walked into the room. "Did you just invite yourself along?"

"Hey, somebody has to keep you out of trouble."

Rodney goes red in the face. "I'll have you know, Colonel, I'm perfectly capable of—"

"So," John interrupts before Rodney can get going, "when's our flight?"

"_You_ don't have a flight!"

John leans in. "But you could arrange it, an important guy like you. Just call up LuthorCorp, and I'm sure they'd take care of it."

Rodney considers this, "Well, yes, I suppose that is true. My input will, naturally, be critical to the success of their project. It is in their best interest to keep me happy."

"So what time's our flight?"

"Seven," it comes out in a resigned little puff.

John smiles and breezes to the door. "See you then."

* * *

"Well, they may be monumentally obtuse when it comes to creating alternative fuel sources, but LuthorCorp certainly knows how to treat its guests." Rodney glances around the living room of the Luthor Grand's Presidential suite, taking in its antiques and leather furniture with an air of _I so deserve this_.

John tosses his jacket across the back of the couch. He's just glad it's not the same room from years ago. That would be too weird.

"It's rather amazing they could come up with something like this on the spur of the moment." Rodney crosses his arms over his chest. "I suppose not everyone minds a tagalong."

John claps him on the back. "You know you're glad I'm here. Hey, are those snacks?" He wanders over to the bar where platters of hors d'oevres have been thoughtfully set out.

The phone rings, and Rodney answers, "Mr. Luthor, good of you to call. Yes, yes, the hotel is very nice." He frowns. "You want me to— But I don't see how that would—" He pinches his mouth together. "Fine. Nine o'clock tomorrow, your office." He hangs up and turns to glare at John.

"What?" John asks around a mouthful of pate.

"Lex Luthor just called for no other apparent reason than to personally invite you to our meeting."

John widens his eyes in his best facsimile of innocence. "That's weird."

"My point exactly. What interest could one of the world's richest men possibly have in some run of the mill Air Force colonel?"

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Rodney," John deadpans.

"You know what I mean!"

He shrugs. "Maybe he was just being hospitable. Hey, I'm in the mood for something more than snacks. How about we order up some dinner?" John waggles his eyebrows. "We can charge it to the room." Free food, or really just food in general, is always the perfect distraction.

It doesn't take much coaxing for Rodney to settle in with the room service menu, but even after the chicken cordon bleu and a fudge sundae, he's still shooting John suspicious looks.

* * *

"It's more mauve than I remembered," Rodney observes the next day as they take the elevator up to the top floor of the LuthorCorp tower. "I suppose the new CEO did some redecorating. I wonder what he's like. I always dealt with the father."

John is purposefully blank-faced, knowing Rodney's watching for a reaction. "I guess we'll find out."

They get off the elevator, and a woman in a no-nonsense pants suit is waiting for them. "I'm Stella Darby, Mr. Luthor's assistant. If you'll follow me, he's ready for you."

They step into the office, and Lex rises from his desk, comes around to shake hands, different now from how John remembers him, a knife-edged precision that's not limited to his clothes. It's possibly even sexier than the leather.

"Dr. McKay. Colonel Sheppard." Lex's gaze lingers on John, and this hasn't changed at least, the way Lex's attention feels like gravity pulling him in.

Lex offers coffee, which Rodney gladly accepts, and he asks them to sit down.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Dr. McKay. I assume you've had a chance to review the materials my assistant sent?" His tone is all business, but his gaze keeps settling on John.

John shifts in his chair, like he's forgotten how to exist in his own skin. _It was just a weekend, and it was years ago_, he keeps reminding himself, but there's so much more to it than memory, than the vividness of the things they did. Lex was the last time John let himself have what he really wanted, and he realizes somewhat belatedly that this was the point of making the trip. To get another taste of that other kind of freedom.

Rodney looks from Lex to John and back again, a frown forming between his eyes. "I've studied the notes," he tells Lex, "and frankly it's no wonder your prototypes keep blowing up. Whoever designed the containment field has clearly never heard of those pesky laws of thermodynamics."

Lex gives Rodney an appraising look. "Was that the only problem?"

"Hardly." Rodney rattles off a long list of "mistakes, oversights, and general incompetence" with even less tact than usual.

By the end of it, Lex appears rather amused. "I take it you can set us in the right direction?"

"Why else would I be here?" Rodney snaps impatiently.

"All right, Dr. McKay, let's see what you can do." There's the hint of a challenge in it, and excitement catches John squarely in the gut. Lex presses the intercom button, and his assistant steps inside. "Stella, show Dr. McKay to the workspace we set up for him. Make sure he has everything he needs."

Stella nods. "Of course, Mr. Luthor."

"What are you going to do?" Rodney asks John.

"I'll look after Colonel Sheppard." Lex looks to John. "How about a tour?" He makes it sound unreasonably dirty.

Rodney juts out his chin. "Maybe I'd like a tour, too."

John can only stare. Choosing any form of glad-handing over work is so...un-Rodneylike.

"I wouldn't want to waste your valuable time, Dr. McKay," Lex says smoothly, with a nod to his assistant.

"Right this way," she says.

Rodney hesitates before following, an odd look in John's direction, his mouth pulled tight at the corners. Panic blooms in John's chest, a familiar weed. _He knows. God. Rodney knows._ He thought about this exact scenario all the way on the plane. On the one hand, the military's policy makes Rodney grimace like he's been confronted with a renegade lemon, and "don't ask, don't tell" doesn't apply to him anyway. On the other hand, Rodney keeps secrets the way sieves hold water, and John has just the kind of relationship with irony that he would manage to get himself court-martialed right as he's found his home in the universe.

When they're alone, Lex says, "Dr. McKay seemed reluctant to part with you."

"He's just—"

Lex moves closer, and John can feel the heat from his body disturbing the air. "No need to explain. I wouldn't be eager to share you, either."

Lex's lips curve up slightly, and John has the sudden urge to run his fingers along his smooth, pale cheek. But that last, unhappy look from Rodney and all the uncertainty that goes with it makes him hold back.

Lex studies him a moment. "So that tour?" His tone leaves room for other possibilities.

John can easily imagine what Lex has mind, has in fact jerked off to those possibilities for years, but he finds himself agreeing to the tour anyway. Damn Rodney for choosing _this_ moment to suddenly start paying attention to the people around him.

Lex takes the decision with good grace, leading John through the labyrinth of LuthorCorp offices, showing off state-of-the-art labs, meeting rooms nicer than any apartment John's ever had, high-tech communications centers, all with evident pride.

John studies him, trying not to be too obvious about it. "Not that I knew you all that well, but I never imagined you as a serious businessman."

Lex seems amused. "Did you picture me managing my pornography empire?"

John smiles. "Something more rebellious."

"I finally decided to live up to my destiny instead of trying to fight it." There's something in his voice, like the cold inevitability of a glacier. "Rebelling was a losing cause." His smile is sharp enough to cut. "And I prefer to win."

Lex ushers him into the next room with a flourish. "I saved this for last." The space is cavernous, empty except for what looks like the set up of a cockpit. "We're developing a new jet for the Air Force with the first ever Mach 10 capability. This simulation replicates flight conditions very precisely. It'll be used to help train pilots. Of course, it's highly classified—"

John looks at him a little desperately. "You _are_ going to let me try it out, right?"

Lex's eyes light with amusement. "You have top clearance I've been assured." His voice dips, "And I wouldn't tempt you with something and not let you have it."

"I'd hate to have to insist." John takes a step closer.

"Hardly necessary. You remember how accommodating I like to be."

John quickly reconsiders those other possibilities, but then he glances over at the simulator, _Mach 10_, and sheepishly back at Lex.

Lex laughs. "First things first, apparently. Let me show you how it works."

A short tutorial, and John takes the controls.

"Have fun," Lex tells him. "I've got things I need to take care of. I'll come back for you later."

John nods, already caught up in the sensation of speed and power. Someone brings him lunch. He takes a few minutes out to eat, and then goes right back to trying a barrel roll at top speed. Only when Lex returns does he reluctantly give up the controls.

"Notice anything I should know?" Lex asks on the walk back to his office.

"A few things. I'll think it through, email you."

John makes himself at home on the couch. Lex pours them both a Scotch, joins him, and John does a quick comparison in his head, Lex now, Lex then. He feels certain those old daredevil impulses haven't really been stamped out. They're just more controlled now, more purposeful, and probably a hell of a lot more dangerous.

"You seem the same," Lex says at last.

"You seem different," John tells him.

Lex shrugs. "Those sacrifices I used to be willing to make stopped being worth it. I see the same can't be said for you."

"What I'm doing is important," he says quietly.

"Duty first." Lex leans so far into his space they're sharing the same air. "Even after what happened in Afghanistan? Having your career destroyed for the high crime of trying to save a comrade? I guess that old cliché is true, at least in the U.S. military. No good deed goes unpunished."

"I disobeyed orders," John says impatiently, because civilians just don't understand. "And how do you know about that anyway?"

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out everything about you after that weekend?"

John suspects Lex's methods were more exhaustive than his own Yahoo search, but the impulse was the same, trying to make a lost weekend a little more than that. Lex shifts forward, and then they're kissing, white-hot and jarringly familiar, going from messy to desperate in a few dizzying seconds.

"Some things haven't changed at least," Lex says as he pulls back.

"Well, I've set your people straight," Rodney comes barging into the office, "now it'll be up to them to finish—" He stops short, staring at John, then Lex like they've mortally offended him.

John licks his lips, a nervous tic he can't help, and Rodney narrows his eyes, as if he knows exactly what John has been doing.

"You ready to head back to the hotel?" John asks, getting to his feet to cover over the awkwardness.

"I'll have my limo drop you off," Lex offers, "and I hope you'll join me for dinner tonight. Say eight o'clock?"

"We'd love to," John says at the same time Rodney insists, "We have an early flight in the morning."

They trade _what's wrong with you_ glares.

"If you don't have time to join us, Dr. McKay—" Lex says, with a satisfied twist of his lips.

Rodney's expression darkens. "Oh, I'll be there."

Lex seems amused by this. "It should be an interesting evening."

John follows Rodney out of the office, and it's clear from the way Rodney stomps over to the elevator that he's pissed. He doesn't catalogue his complaints, though, or even mutter under his breath. John has no idea what to do with a wordlessly angry Rodney.

It isn't until they're settled into the backseat that Rodney finally comes out with it, "So it seems you've met Lex Luthor before."

"Well…yeah," John admits, and then he does his best to equivocate, "Briefly."

Rodney stares him down, the way he does the science team when they fail to own up to some act of incompetence, like he's not going to stand for it, and John lets out his breath.

"Fine. So it's— what you think. But Lex is very discreet. You don't have to worry—"

Rodney's jaw clenches noticeably. "Tell me that's not where you got the earring."

It takes a second to connect the dots and realize it's not concern for John's career that's bothering Rodney. _It's the gay thing. Jesus._ John tries to frame words, but there really doesn't seem any point. Denial has already gone by the wayside, and he's too proud to ask what he really wants to know. _Why does it have to matter?_ Suddenly he's exhausted. Of all the people he thought he needed to hide from, it never occurred to him to include Rodney on the list.

"It's not like it was—" A part of him insists on defending himself. "It wasn't—"

_Tawdry_, but he doesn't say it.

"No explanation necessary, Colonel," Rodney says stiffly. "It's none of my business."

John half turns toward him, ready to spit out, _You're making it your fucking business by judging me._ That's when he sees it, the giveaway in Rodney's eyes, something he's only noticing _now_ when they've spent nearly every damned day of the last two years together. This is the problem with shutting down parts of himself. He misses things that probably should be fairly obvious.

The driver leaves them at the hotel, and as soon as they're back in their suite, Rodney mutters, "work to do," and stomps off toward his room.

John catches him by the arm. "Rodney. It's not like Lex and I are— You have nothing to be jealous of."

Rodney jerks away angrily. "Your ego really is out of control, isn't it?"

He slams the bedroom door behind him, and John sighs.

* * *

Lex sends the limo to bring them to the restaurant, and apparently Rodney is giving John the silent treatment. He says nothing as they wait for the elevator or stand around in the lobby or walk out to the curb. There isn't even an indignant rant about the conspiracy of lemon twists hiding in the car's wet bar. The driver drops them off at a place called Magnolia, appropriately expensive-looking for Lex's taste. Rodney thumps out of the limo and toward the door.

John catches up to him and pulls him to the side. "I want to get things straight before we go in."

Rodney glares at him. "Oh, I understand perfectly, Colonel. He's hot, and you're a sex machine with a very high opinion of yourself. No need to discuss _that_ further, I assure you."

He tries to pull away, but John won't let him. "Look, this..._you_ took me by surprise, and I really didn't put things too well back there at the hotel."

Rodney meets his eye impatiently. "We don't need to have this talk. I don't care what you do or who you do it with."

John raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes!" Rodney hisses.

John cups Rodney's jaw in his hand. "Then you won't care if I do this."

Rodney's surprised squawk is strangely gratifying, although it's even better when he stops sputtering against John's mouth and actually starts to kiss back.

There are high spots of color in Rodney's cheeks when he pulls away. "I— You— Okay, now I'm confused."

"Yeah. Sorry." John squeezes his shoulder. "I just— I didn't realize. Before. That you— Maybe I should have. But I didn't."

Rodney gives him a long, appraising look, like he's making some decision, and important things are riding on it. Finally he relaxes. "Yes, well. I thought you were straight. Maybe I should have realized, too."

John grins. "Maybe." He strokes his thumb in soft circles over Rodney's neck. "So…are we okay?"

"It's a relief actually, that you're just an oblivious idiot," Rodney tries for the usual arrogant superiority, but doesn't quite manage it. "So much better than if you were an insensitive jerk using me to fuck other men when you knew how much I wanted you."

"Jesus, Rodney." John pulls him into an awkward, one-armed hug.

Rodney hangs on longer than John intended, and he's resolving not to care what people passing by might think when Rodney sighs and takes a step back. "I guess we'd better go in." He gives John an admonishing look. "But don't think you're off the hook about that earring. You will tell me the entire story, every detail."

John pats him on the shoulder. "Later. I promise."

Lex has already arrived, at their table sipping Scotch. "Dr. McKay." His voice slides a half octave lower. "John."

They sit, and a waiter brings menus and a wine list.

"The tuna tartare is excellent," Lex recommends.

"I'm having steak," Rodney announces.

John hides behind his menu. They order, and Lex speaks with the sommelier about wine. When the bottle arrives, he tastes it, nods, and the sommelier pours it.

Lex raises his glass. "To the inevitability of things changing and yet still staying the same."

John drinks to it. Rodney looks as if he'd like to poison Lex's Cabernet.

The dinner conversation continues much in the same vein, no seemingly innocuous topic quite safe enough. John enjoys his tuna and lets them duel it out. Without a P-90 in his hands, he's pretty sure he has no chance of stopping them.

"Oh, you can't possibly expect me to believe the Metropolis Opera rivals New York or London," Rodney says with a snort of derision, as their discussion of cultural events hit the skids. "That's like comparing a puddle to the ocean."

Lex avenges the insult to his hometown with musings about contenders for this year's Nobel Prize, "Higginson seems the most obvious candidate in Physics. His work on black holes, in particular, merits consideration, don't you think, Dr. McKay?"

Rodney practically has spittle flying in his eagerness to explain why he does not, in fact, agree with that assessment.

They even manage to argue about baseball, a subject John knows for a fact that Rodney doesn't care about in the least.

Over creme brulee and coffee, Lex shifts onto more personal subjects, "I never took the opportunity to congratulate you on your promotion. Very well deserved. I'm sure you wear that silver oak leaf well." His gaze flickers appreciatively over John.

"Yes," Rodney quickly interjects, giving John a careless once-over, "very." He pauses. "Except for the hair, which is still," he waves his hand, and John waits for it, "you know, the usual mess."

Rodney looks down at his plate.

"I'm pleased to see they finally recognize your talents," Lex continues. "Of course, you have a place at LuthorCorp whenever you decide you're finished making sacrifices."

"Thank you," John says, taking a sip of his wine. "It's nice to be appreciated."

He says it in part to wind Rodney up, because that hasn't stopped being fun just because there's probably going to be sex in their future.

"I appreciate you!" Rodney insists hotly. "I've told you any number of times that you're—"

John raises an eyebrow. "Not as stupid as most people?"

"Well—" Rodney lifts his head with deliberate dignity. "Yes. But you know that's a compliment!"

John smiles at him fondly.

Lex changes the subject, "Have you gotten in any surfing since you've been on leave?"

John shakes his head sadly. "Been landlocked."

"We could fly to Maui for a few days," Lex tosses it out the way other people might suggest taking in a movie.

Rodney flushes all the way to his hairline. "You can go surfing any time you want back on—" He stops himself just in time. "Back home."

Lex's eyes glitter in the soft light. "I'm sure I can think of something to make it worth the trip."

John knows it's his place to put a stop to this tug-of-war, but he's gone from nothing to possibilities, plural, in the space of a few hours, and it's left him a little behind the curve.

Rodney takes matter into his own hands, throwing his napkin onto the table, getting to his feet. "I really should just— let you talk over old times." He looks hesitantly to John. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

John shakes his head. He doesn't know exactly how he wants this evening to go, but Rodney leaving certainly isn't it.

"Fine," Rodney's tone is clipped. "Enjoy Hawaii."

John catches him by the arm. "Don't." He strokes his thumb in circles over the soft skin on the underside of Rodney's wrist. "Whatever happens, I want you with me."

Rodney stutters to a stop, his gaze searching. John doesn't know what the hell he's saying or where this is going, but whatever Rodney sees in his face makes his eyes go wide. John darts a glance at Lex, whose eyes are bright with surprised amusement.

"Perhaps we could all go back to the hotel for a drink?" He sounds just like he did that night in the alley, _I know a place_.

John looks up at Rodney, whose expression is startlingly raw with want, and Lex's gaze is on him too, weighty and expectant. Being in the middle of them feels like lightning licking its way up John's spine.

He finds voice enough to ask Rodney, "Are you sure?"

Rodney licks his lips, obviously nervous, but he nods nonetheless.

Lex smiles, rising to his feet. "I knew this evening would prove interesting."

They leave the restaurant, a barely perceptible nod from Lex to the maitre'd all that's necessary to settle the bill, and pile into the limo.

Rodney asks a little uneasily, "I just want to make sure…this is _sex_, we're talking about, right?"

"Only if you want—" John starts to say

Lex leans across the seat, puts his hands on either side of John's shoulders and kisses him, a far more definitive answer. John darts a look at Rodney, who is staring open-mouthed.

"You don't have to," John says quickly.

"I'm not some terrified virgin," Rodney informs him.

To emphasize the point, he grabs John's face between his hands and lays a kiss on him, messy with tongue and determined pride. Hot, startled pleasure arcs from John's mouth to his cock, a reaction Rodney doesn't miss. He moves his hand to John's crotch, hovering there, just the slightest pressure, more tease than touch.

Rodney settles back against the leather, and John can hear his own blood in his ears. Lex is smiling, as if he appreciates the way Rodney is rising to the challenge.

The driver lets them out at the hotel, and John feels deeply conscious of people watching as he walks across the lobby, as if his desires are vibrating off him like neon. For once, the notion that he might be this transparent doesn't make him want to hide or pretend or dissemble. It just makes him sorry for anyone who isn't him.

They have the elevator to themselves, and John catches Lex watching him in the mirrored panels. Lex smiles, and his gaze slides deliberately down to John's cock. Rodney is reflected in the glass too, and he seems to have lost some of his bravado. John reaches out for his hand, and Rodney lets him take it, gripping John's fingers too tightly.

The elevator dings and stops, and in the lost moment before the doors open, Lex leans in to Rodney and kisses him soundly. "You're going to like it, trust me."

Lex is the first off the elevator. John puts his hand on Rodney's back, and they follow. Once in the room, John has his own silent freakout. He's done this only once before, with an Air Force buddy and his girlfriend, and that was a beer-fuelled game of chicken. This, now, is— something else entirely.

Lex moves to the bar. "Scotch?'

"Sure," John gladly accepts.

Rodney nods, and they go sit on the sofa. John absently picks up Rodney's hand and kisses it, thinking it will be reassuring. When he looks, though, Rodney's eyes are the black-blue of heat lighting, and he mutters, "God, I really am going to have sex with you," and grabs John's chin, holding it firmly while he has his way with his mouth.

"Rodney," John murmurs, kissing back, fingers stroking through his hair.

They pull away a little self-consciously when Lex brings the drinks.

Lex smiles. "To unforeseen possibilities."

They toast, and John downs the entire glass, the bite at the back of his throat, warmth spreading through his blood. Artificial courage, and he gets to his feet, slips off his jacket, unbuttons his shirt, the glide of starched cotton against his fingers making his skin buzz. He lets the shirt fall to the carpet, and a noise comes out of Rodney, something between a squeak and a groan. John smiles at him, affection unfurling warmly in his chest.

Lex puts a hand on John's shoulder and guides him into a kiss, the same bottomless searching in it that John remembers from years before. Lex presses his palm flat between John's nipples, slides it achingly slowly down his belly, over the fabric of his pants, rubbing his thumb in circles over John's erection.

"Have you ever sucked him?" Lex asks, nodding toward Rodney.

John shakes his head.

"I'm sure he'd enjoy it. I know I always did." The corner of his mouth tilts up, his lips soft looking, the little scar inviting, and John licks at it, making Lex's smile go more crooked.

John takes Lex's suggestion. Sucking Rodney is on his short list of the world's really good ideas. He kneels down, runs his hands over Rodney's knees, pressing firmly on the sensitive insides. Rodney goes from looking slightly left out to wide-eyed with longing in the space of an instant. John unzips his pants and goes down, no teasing, no buildup, because the 762 days they've spent not doing this is already more than enough foreplay. Rodney's cock is thick and wet at the tip, and John has thought about this no matter how hard he tried not to, what Rodney would feel like on his tongue.

He experiments, licking at the head, tracing a pattern along the shaft, carefully teasing with his teeth on the underside. Rodney draws in a sharp breath and strokes his fingers along John's cheek. He moves John's hair out of the way, his hand shaking, and John glances up so he can watch Rodney watching him. Rodney's expression is softly stunned, like he can't quite believe his luck.

There's a creak of leather, and then Lex's sinuous voice, "He's good at that, isn't he?"

Lex turns Rodney's chin in his hand, kissing, licking at Rodney's lips in time to John's efforts on his cock. Rodney moans, and John presses a hand hard against his own dick, as turned on as if they were touching him. Rodney murmurs "more" against Lex's mouth and tries to thrust with his hips. John pulls off with an obscene smack of his lips and a groan from Rodney. More is exactly what John has in mind.

"Bed," he orders.

Rodney is gearing up to complain, not at all happy about the interrupted blowjob, and John pulls him up from the couch before he can start, hand on his back, moving him toward the bedroom.

"Sit." He pushes Rodney down onto the edge of the mattress, guides his hand to his cock. "Watch."

Rodney stares up at him with huge eyes. Lex saunters over for a kiss, and John tangles up his hands in Lex's clothes, trying to get all that expensive fabric out of his way.

Lex's eyes are a dark blue simmer. "Let me."

He has a talent for making efficiency arousing, and the clothes come off quickly, provocatively, landing in a tidy heap on the carpet.

A sharp intake of breath makes John glance around. Rodney is watching intently, eyes almost glassy, hand working his cock. John likes that look on him, wants more of it, and he drops to his knees in front of Lex, angling their bodies to give Rodney a better view, determined to make them both moan.

Lex smiles down at him as if he understands perfectly, cups John's jaw in his hand and uses his mouth. John fits his fingers into the hollows of Lex's hipbones and presses, making the pale skin even paler. He twists his tongue, a maneuver that makes tough guys whimper when they come.

"No." Lex pushes him away, not gently, hand to John's forehead, panting harshly. "Not yet."

He goes to the nightstand and takes out lube and condoms. John wonders idly if those things have been there since they arrived, if he was supposed to open the drawer and find them and realize that Lex was the one who had them put there. Lex squirts slick stuff onto his fingers and stands over Rodney, wraps his hand around Rodney's cock, making him go cross-eyed.

"John's going to fuck me," Lex tells him, voice low and deliberate. "Are you going to fuck him?"

There's a greedy flash in Rodney's eyes and then an uncertain glance at John. John nods, and the pink tip of Rodney's tongue darts out between his lips.

Lex settles onto the bed, on the other side of Rodney, looking smug, sprawled back against the pillows, legs spread, lube in hand.

"God," Rodney mutters thickly as Lex starts to finger himself.

John takes Rodney by the wrist, pulls him up from the bed and into a kiss.

"You like what Lex is doing?" he asks against Rodney's ear, turns him around, Rodney's back to his chest, so they can both watch. He reaches to stroke Rodney, kisses his neck. "Are you going to do that to me?"

Rodney's cock jerks in his hand. "Jesus."

Lex tosses John the lube. "My turn to watch."

John presses another kiss to Rodney's shoulder, tucks the lube into his hand, and bends over the bed, hands braced on the mattress, ass lifted in the air. Rodney gasps just as loudly as John hoped he would, and he flashes a smile at Lex. _You're not the only smug bastard in this room,_

Rodney doesn't immediately touch him, though, and John glances back over his shoulder. "You okay?"

Rodney nods, but he sounds dazed, "I'm really going to fuck you."

"Yeah," John says, his breath coming more heavily.

Lex watches them, heavy-lidded, and then he curves onto his side, mouth turning up at the corner. John knows that look, what it's asking for. He wraps a hand around Lex's hip and goes down.

"Mmm," Lex sighs.

"Jesus," Rodney mutters shakily.

His hand settles on John's back, stroking in gentle circles, and then there are slick fingers moving between John's cheeks, one and then two pressing inside. John moans, pushing back onto Rodney's hand, forward to take Lex's cock. So good, and John abandons himself to the sensation, perfectly content to come just like that. But Rodney pulls his fingers away before he can get there, and Lex takes the cue and shifts out of his reach.

"Hey!" John complains, not happy to be deprived of them both.

"You said I could fuck you," Rodney's breath is hot against John's neck, "so don't even think about coming before I get the chance."

Lex smirks up at him and rolls over onto his other side, arching his back.

"Fuck," John mutters.

Rodney says hopefully. "Please?"

John couldn't resist that even if he wanted to, which he really, really doesn't. They roll condoms onto each other, and he stretches out, pressed snugly against Lex, his hand skimming down Lex's side, over his hip, along the soft skin of his thigh. The bed dips, and then there's heat all along John's back, Rodney's skin sliding against his, Rodney's cock nudging between his cheeks.

"How do we—" Rodney trails off uncertainly.

Lex cups John's hip, pulls John into him, his body opening easily.

"Yes," Lex moans.

"God," John whimpers.

Rodney squirms restlessly, and John reaches back for him, hand curving around his thigh. "Now you."

It's been a long time since he's done this, and the sudden flaring pain as Rodney enters him makes the muscles all the way up his back clench.

Rodney feels it and stops. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's okay. Just do it. Put it in me. I want you to."

Rodney goes very slowly, smoothes his hand over John's hip coaxingly until finally he's inside. John takes a shaky breath. The sensation is almost too much, Lex surrounding him, Rodney opening him up.

He reaches back to stroke Rodney's thigh. "Fuck me." His voice is rough, desperate if he's honest, and he feels like he's been waiting all his life to tell just this little bit of truth.

Rodney thrusts, and John does, both clumsily. After a few tries, they have more of the hang of it, and in the end instinct takes over, the need to fuck overpowering everything else. John comes with his hand on Lex's cock, his face pressed tightly against his neck, breathing in salt and heat, with Rodney's fingers digging into his skin, leaving marks on his hip.

Rodney slumps against his back, a reassuring weight. John can feel the minute movements of each breath Lex takes, the rhythm slowly returning to normal. John could not have predicted that this was what he wanted, but now that he has it, he can't imagine anything better. When Lex starts to slip out of bed, he tightens his hold on him.

"We have the night."

It takes Lex a moment to decide, to relax back into his arms. He rests a hand on John's forearm and holds on. Rodney lets out a contented sigh, throws an arm across John's waist, lays a yawning kiss on the back of his neck. John closes his eyes, feeling weightless.

* * *

In the morning, John wakes up wrapped around Rodney. No Lex, but there's the smell of coffee coming from the living room. He untangles himself, careful not to disturb Rodney, and slips into the complimentary robe. Lex is standing at the windows, as if checking on his city, on the phone with his assistant. John helps himself to coffee, and Lex snaps the phone closed. The moment stretches out as neither of them finds a way to begin.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes," Lex finally says. "Keep the suite. I'm sure you and Dr. McKay could use some…relaxation."

"Thanks," John says a little awkwardly.

Lex hesitates, as if there's something more he wants to add, but then his expression smoothes over, closes up. Because they both know: John is going, and Lex is staying, and that's just the way their story goes. Lex nods, and John follows him to the door, pulls him around for one last kiss, heartfelt and final.

"We have a sample of Wraith tissue," Lex says quietly enough that it doesn't leave the circle of their arms. "We're making progress on a weapon."

John can barely manage a startled, "How?"

Lex smiles and answers a different question, "Let's just say I haven't completely lost my appreciation for heroes."

Then John is standing there alone, and he stalls by the closed door until the deepening quiet reminds him what he has waiting for him.

He finds Rodney with the covers half kicked off, a fitful sleeper, and John pulls them all the way back and climbs into bed. Rodney murmurs softly as John eases his boxers down. He's morning hard, and John licks at salt and the lingering taste of latex. Planning for contingencies is engrained in him, and he braces his hands on Rodney's thighs just in case. Sure enough, Rodney wakes with a start and a lunge.

Rodney pushes himself up onto his elbows, stares down at John, shoulders tense, eyes huge, the way he looks when he's scared shitless or…

"God!"

…about to come.

John wipes his mouth on the sheet, pleased that he's left Rodney in a sweaty, panting heap.

"Morning." He quirks a grin.

Rodney rolls his eyes, no intention of encouraging John's smugness. "So," he says, more carefully than usual. "I wasn't expecting that."

John nods. "Sucking you off before you've had your first cup of coffee. What can I say? I like to live dangerously."

He ducks when Rodney throws a pillow at him.

"I just thought that— maybe last night was only because Lex was here."

John kisses him. "So I guess you're not as smart as we thought, huh?"

"Hey!" But then hopefulness edges out affronted ego. "Wait. Does that mean— Are we talking about having a future to this? But what about your career? What if someone finds out—"

John stretches out over Rodney and kisses him to make him stop. "I was thinking I'd fuck you first, and then we could figure out the rest from there."

Rodney runs his hand up John's back and into his hair. "We could do that."

John grins and kisses him again. He already can't remember why he let gravity hold him back for so long.


End file.
